Cutting Through The Mix: Duane and Sandy

No worries—this Tele cuts through the mix. Photo of Brent Mason’s
well-worn axe by Andy Ellis

Duane was questioning
his own sanity. He
was a working guitarist and
against his better judgment,
he’d invited Sandy to meet him
out on the road while touring
the Southwestern part of the
country. Now he was sitting at a
roadside café having a leisurely
breakfast with her.

The couple had met at one
of Duane’s gigs a few years
before and sparks flew immediately.
Sandy would sit right in
front of Duane while he played
and sang. She loved the way he
stroked his gold-colored guitar
and imagined that every note
he played was for her alone.
At first, Sandy would travel
long distances to see Duane
play with the band—sleeping
in her car or renting a motel
room with Duane. She loved
the music, but shortly after they
were married Sandy stopped
coming to Duane’s gigs. Duane
was worried that she was no
longer infatuated with the idea
of a musician husband.

Maybe it was like when
he fixated on a new piece of
musical gear—as soon as he
got it, he was thinking about
something new. His idea was
to get Sandy out on the road to
rekindle their romance in the
environment where it had started.
Unknown to Duane, it was
Sandy who had actually put the
idea into his head. Secretly, she
was worried that he was seeing
other women on the road, and
wanted to check up on him.
By the time Duane got a vague
notion about her true motivation,
it was too late to change
course—she was on her way.

Duane had rented a car purportedly
to spare Sandy the displeasure
of traveling in the band
van with the guys and gear. The
rented car was a safety precaution—
at least he could shield her
from the band. The guys had a
way of passing the long hours of
traveling by talking trash about
each other, their significant others,
and the girls they knew in
each town. Duane had shifted
into survival mode and his bandmates
could smell it.

As Duane and Sandy pulled
into each town, Duane would
suggest they take in the local
sights or stop in a pawnshop so
he could look at guitars. Sandy
used to enjoy watching him try
out new instruments, but he
realized that now it just meant
a possible expenditure to her.
He was very careful to arrive at
soundcheck slightly late to avoid
too much idle time with the rest
of the band. He was constantly
sending Sandy out for 9-volt
batteries for his pedals. After
a while she wondered why he
didn’t buy them before it was
time for him to play. As soon
as soundchecks were over, out
the door they went to explore
the area or check into a motel
room. The stress on Duane was
beginning to show, which made
Sandy edgy, and in turn made
Duane even more stressed.

So, there they were—killing
time in the café with their
huevos rancheros, fried potatoes
and coffee. Sandy was talking
excitedly about redecorating
their apartment, and Duane was
thinking about the Telecaster
he had on hold at a store in the
next town. His Les Paul wasn’t
cutting through the mix well
enough, but he couldn’t stand
to part with it. So against his
wife’s wishes, he’d bought the
Tele instead of trading for it. He
wasn’t sure how he was going to
break it to her, but he wanted
the band van to get as far ahead
down the road as possible before
shoving off in pursuit. He’d wing
it once they were in the car.

Back out on the highway,
there had been about 40 minutes
of silence, and the tension
was getting unbearable. Duane
was just about to bring up the
Telecaster when they crested a
rise, only to see the band’s van at
the side of the road. The entire
band was standing outside with
their hands on their heads, surrounded
by cops and drug-sniffing
dogs. Duane slowed slightly
and saw the drummer shake
his head indicating that stopping
wasn’t a good idea. They
cruised on for a few minutes in
silence—then both broke out
into hysterical laughter. For a
moment it felt like the old, carefree
times. “Screw it,” Duane
shouted. “I quit.”

Sandy threw her arms
around his neck and kissed him
on the cheek. They were both
in the moment, and the whole
thing seemed like a sign. Sandy
turned and faced forward, her
eyes focused down the road
somewhere. “I’m pregnant,” she
said softly.

Back down the road the rest
of the band had lucked out. The
drummer had shoved the bag
of pot down his underwear and
several days of showerless giging
must have thrown off the drug-sniffing
dogs. They got off with
a ticket for a broken brake light,
but that was the end of the
band. They’d all had enough.

Today, only two of the guys
have jobs related to the music
business, but they all keep in
touch. The anger at Duane for
“breaking up” the band has
been forgotten and they all
laugh about what didn’t seem
funny at the time. They still get
together and jam from time to
time—the wives and their kids
sit around the back yard and listen
just like the old days. Duane
smiles at Sandy from behind
that Telecaster as their daughter
dances with her friends. Duane
wonders if the Tele is cutting
through the mix.

Jol Dantzig is a
noted designer, builder,
and player who co-founded
Hamer Guitars,
one of the first boutique
guitar brands, in 1973.
Today, as the director of
Dantzig Guitar Design, he continues to
help define the art of custom guitar. To
learn more, visit guitardesigner.com.

Jol Dantzig is a noted designer, builder, and player who co-founded Hamer Guitars, one of the first boutique guitar brands, in 1973. Today, as the director of Dantzig Guitar Design, he continues to help define the art of custom guitar. To learn more, visit guitardesigner.com.

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